Civilian
by omfgitsdaisy
Summary: In a world overrun by walkers, Olivia has been surviving. However, when she finds herself within the walls of a prison in the company of others, she discovers she can finally start living. If only for a little while.


The walkers came out of nowhere, pushing their pathetic excuses for bodies toward our filthy, delicious ones. A moment ago, a man had spotted me fighting a dead thing and had helped me kill it. He'd grunted something to me about a place he could bring me where I'd be safe, but I hadn't had any time to decline his invitation. I was now tearing though the forest as fast as I could with this man, away from the walking dead that had interrupted us and were now chasing us, snapping their ugly, dribbling mouths at the thought of taking a bite out of us. A million and one trees blurred in my vision and all I focused on as I ran was this man, slightly ahead of me. We weren't running for long before my legs started to hurt more than I believed they ever had and my throat was as dry as the leaves I was tredding on. One advantage the dead had over the living, they didn't really ever get tired of running. Occasionally he would glance over his shoulder but wouldn't look at me, I assumed he knew I was still alive because I was panting loudly with the exhaustion of running. He would look behind me to check the distance inbetween myself and the however many walkers in our pursuit, and as he would just go back to looking ahead of him and wouldn't tell me to run faster, I would guess they were not snapping at my ankles just yet. I couldn't look back. I couldn't look anywhere but at the crossbow the man had slung over his shoulder. It was bouncing harsly against his back, matching the rhythm of his heavy footsteps and I couldn't help but think it was an inconvinient weapon to have burdened upon you when you were running for your life. The small knife in my pocket hardly bothered me at all when I was running for mine. It wasn't as sharp as it had been when I'd left my town just over a year ago, but I'd looked after it as best I could by scraping it against rocks I found.

What I think I found most unusual about this situation, not that there were dead people chasing me in the hope to eat me, or that I was following a stranger through a forest, but it was how happy I was to be in his company. Dead people had inherited the earth about a year ago and since the day I ran from my living room where my mum and brother were being eaten I hadn't spoken to another human being. But it wasn't as if I hadn't had the chance to. I'd often spotted a group of survivors or just a couple of people camped out in tents or kicking doors down to gain access to abandoned pharmacies and supermarkets. My lack of desire to watch more people I cared about about being eaten and spat out when their predator caught the scent of a more appealing person meant I never approached anyone, and I kept myself to myself. It had worked out well, in all honesty. Any food I had the good luck to find was mine and didn't need to be rationed out for the benefit of other hungry mouths. It meant I was so lonely at times that I cried myself to sleep, but it kept me emotionally distant from anything anyone else was experiencing nowadays.

The moaning from the dead was shrinking into the mist behind us as we got further and further away from them, and after a while the man turned round again, but this time he looked at me. He dropped his eyes and looked my body up and down before turning his attention back to the direction in which he was running. I assumed he was checking to see that a walker hadn't biten or scratched me; those two things being the cause of the fever that boiled your insides until it killed you, I couldn't really blame him. Although I couldn't be sure that his cautiousness was as much for my safety as it was for his own.

After running for a little longer, I noticed the trees up ahead seemed to be stood further apart. They cleared in a way that the sunlight crept through much more brightly than it had in our wake, and I thought I could see a narrow road beyond the them. With one last glance over his shoulder, the man stopped running. So I did too.

"C'mon," the man grunted without looking at me, waving his hand in the direction of the road. I fell back a little. I couldn't be sure he was leading me to a place of safety, but I wanted to make sure he was aware I was declining his company even before he had the chance to offer it.

"Look, I don't want to seem rude or, I don't know, ungrateful, I guess, for you helping save my life back there, but I'm really doing okay on my own. I don't want-". We reached the road, and my words stuck in my throat as I saw what was standing at the end of it.


End file.
